The Magic Umbrella

The orange tinged eyelashes fluttered open, revealing a set of plain brown eyes that remained unfocused for a few seconds before taking in their surroundings. Percy sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, wishing that just for once the upstairs had a heater of some sort.

It had stormed without pause all night, leaving a fresh and very thick blanket of snow on the ground. Winter had never been so welcomed, he thought with a hint of sarcasm, shivering. Percy reached for his glasses on the nightstand, put them on, and prepared his feet for the huge shock that is hardwood flooring.

He winced, letting the waves of frigidity overtake him before seizing his dressing robe and slippers. Percy had always hated winter, the epitome of emotions and togetherness. But not for that particular purpose. Everyone in his family seemed so together, so warm and happy, like a family was supposed to be. He hated the togetherness of something else. Silently thanking his mother for the new slippers, he made his way over to the eastern window.

Percy pressed his forehead against the cool windowpane, closing his eyes against the blinding whiteness and wrapping his arms around himself to protect him from the cold. Or something else.

The prefects. The memories of being a prefect, moving as one in a group of people who didn't care if anybody's feelings of individuality were trampled in the midst of their actions to "protect the student body of Hogwarts as both an organized team and a group of honoured individuals". Honoured, sure, but individualized his foot.

Prefects were always together. They lived together, ate together, took classes together, breathed, slept, walked, talked and existed in total abject synchronization. There were no individuals, just a monotonous group of chosen teenagers who forgot who they were the minute they received a prefect's badge.

And then there was the title of Head Boy. Percy sighed at the thought of the name itself, steamy clouds of condensation appearing on the window. The two sided position that practically named one Second Deputy Headmaster.

Oh, yes, there were the benefits of being the most esteemed student in the entire school, that almost everyone looked up to you, but there was also the fact that everyone made you the butt of jokes all across the board, and your own siblings--who didn't care an inkling of your feelings but just assumed that you had intentions merely for yourself and your "big ego"--encouraged them on.

He laughed softly, almost menacingly, as he lifted his head from the glass and looked across the room at the clock on the wall. He still had time. Percy shivered again and cursed being cold, being lonely, being melancholy, but most of all, being poor.

Lying in bed late one night when he was 10 years old and about to head off to Hogwarts, Percy had lain awake thinking about his family's not so present fortune. He had come to the conclusion that being poor brought people together, particuarly his own family. Everyone seemed a little closer to one another. Except, of course, him, as he later realized.

It wasn't that he wasn't loved, or that he wasn't part of the closely-knit Weasleys, it was that being poor made him...dreary. It was a raincloud that constantly hung over his head, one that he could never avoid. Mother and Father did their best to put a barrier between the children and the money, or lack thereof, but sooner or later everyone figured it out.

Especially Penelope. Percy shivered again and scuffled over to his closet, pulling a large sweater over his head while strategically removing his dress robe at the same time. Penelope hadn't really known about the family's financially status in their 6th year, she simply saw Percy as further proof that she was totally loyal to being a prefect and part of the group. It was their "duty to the prefects" to be together all the time, a sort of sweet couple but nothing too serious.

And then something changed in their 7th year. Maybe Penelope had been gossiping too much for her own good, or had seem him in some secondhand store in Diagon Alley she wouldn't have walked into for her prefect's badge, but in any case, she had a totally different attitude toward him.

Percy remembered with great fondness the time Penny placed a wager with him, 10 galleons to him if Gryffindor won an insignificant Quidditch match. And, of course, he would have to pay her 10 galleons if they lost. A most desparaging loss, indeed.

He was glad they won, more than anything, not just to have the money, but to be debt free of Penelope. It simply emphasized her shallow personality, he thought bitterly, yanking on shoe strings as he finished dressing. She was blonde and curly haired, a rich daddy's little girlie. And she was marrying someone else.

Percy slowly let his foot fall the floor with a clunk. Penny. Getting married. For a few horrible seconds, Percy felt the panic and the despair rise in him that had been subconciously bothering him for ages now. But she was gone, wasn't she? She was just another superficial girl who had come and left.

He sighed, realizing what he had feared for a long time. He had become dependent on Penelope during those last two years at Hogwarts. He hadn't intended to, just like he hadn't intended for Hemmingway to become his secretary at the Ministry. At least she didn't haunt his thoughts, Percy mused, rolling his eyes in something of amusement.

He needed to think about something besides girls. All you got when you fell in love was a guy with a pin to burst your bubble. That's what you got for all your trouble. Percy grinned despite the circumstances. I'll never fall in love again. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what he was working on at the office.

In one week he would be on his way back to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Competition's Yule Ball, a very distinguished honour indeed, seeing as he was just Mr. Crouch's personal assistant. Mr. Crouch. Yet another superficial moron who was always disappearing. He had a strange feeling about him, but couldn't quite place it.

In any case, he was going back to Hogwarts to prove himself, at least to Ron or the twins. And he could always talk to Harry Potter or their friend Hermione. He was going and there was not going to be anyone to stop him or ruin his importance as one of the representatives of the judges. And that was that.

At least it was warm in the Ministry offices. Percy hung his traveling cloak on the hat rack where the familiar black beret, black umbrella and black peacoat already hung nicely and neatly, leaving plenty of room for whatever he might have had to hang up there.

Percy yawned and gazed out the window at the softly falling snow, down five stories and across the street at the cafe. The tables that used to sit on the outdoor porch had been taken inside at the beginning signs of autumn, and nothing was left but the snow, now turned a sort of brownish colour from the tires of the cars below.

"Weasley?" called a voice from the main office door. He turned and saw Rook behind the halfway opened door.

"Oh, g'morning, sir."

"Ah, wonderful! You're in. I needed to talk to you about this whole Triwizard Tournament dance thing or whatever you're supposed to be going to in place of Crouch." Percy repressed a frown and instead gestured for him to sit.

"Oh?"

"Yes, you'll be needed as one of the judges, as you already know..." Rook was known for his ability to ramble. Rambling Man, they had crowned him behind his back. Percy had often tuned out, not disrespectfully but as a gesture of his surrender to the incoherentness of the conversation.

"...so is that alright with you, Weasley?"

"Hmm? Oh, certainly. Anything you say, Mr. Rook."

"Wonderful. You'll both need to leave on the Hogwarts Express on the 9 o'clock leave. She doesn't have to actually be seen if you don't want everyone to be distracted, you know how she is, but if she begs and pleads, let her dance or something. I'll go tell her now."

"Mmm...alright, Mr. Rook." Percy turned back to the falling snow, his mind wandering back to whatever it was that he had been thinking about--oh, the cafe.

In the summertime the cafe was filled with patrons from all across Europe, the Greek Muggle students on tour of London, the Parisians came around for the ungodly sport of shopping (he could never understand why they would go to Harrod's when Paris was practically the centre of fashion in the world. Yet another interesting fact from the mind of Penelope Clearwater.), and the Americans came simply for the culture.

The winter made it difficult for the cafe to get very many customers, maybe a few Americans who couldn't stand the weather, or some Italians every now and then, but without the writers and the artists who came to capture the buildings and the people, the cafe wasn't as inviting.

Sounds of the door opening again brought Percy's mind back to the office. What did Rook want now?

"Sir?"

"Oh, Hemmingway." He turned the chair to face her. Hemmingway looked very pleased, as though she had just heard that her birthday was a month early this year. "Did you need something?" The girl hesitated slightly, as though making a decision in her head, before rushing forward and throwing her arms around him, nearly toppling the chair over backwards.

"Oh, thank you, Sir!" she gushed.

"Wait...what...all this--WHAT FOR?!" he cried, trying to wrestle out of her embrace before she choked him to death. He struggled to regain balance in the chair.

"For agreeing to let me go with you to the Yule Ball at your old school!" There was silence for a minute or two, and finally Hemmingway let go of him and gave him a concerned frown.

"When did I agree to that?" he said slowly and seriously.

"Oh! Just now," came the reply. The weight of her words hit him dead on and he made a mental note--along with a few obscenities toward the general advice of the masses who had knighted Rook as the Rambling Man--to never again ignore Cosmo Rook.